


Safe Haven

by Watashi_wa_Okami



Series: Oneshots no one asked for [12]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bureaucracy, Corrupt Official, Depression, Drowning, Gintoki needs a hug, Heavy Angst, Helpless, Hopeful Ending, Past Torture, Post Joui War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Powerlessness, Sad Gintoki, Torture, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Waterboarding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watashi_wa_Okami/pseuds/Watashi_wa_Okami
Summary: Sequel to Swimming Lesson. Gintoki knows more than he will ever let on.
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou & Katsura Kotarou, Hijikata Toshirou & Kondou Isao & Okita Sougo, Hijikata Toshirou & Sakata Gintoki, Katsura Kotarou & Sakata Gintoki
Series: Oneshots no one asked for [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1516460
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56





	Safe Haven

“Gintoki, where’s Katsura Kotaro?” Hijikata bites out, more than aware that the man _always_ denies any relation to the joui patriot. However, instead of a lazy drawl of _eh, did you ask for a wig? You tired of those V-bangs?_ Gintoki freezes. Hijikata almost misses it, almost doesn't see the raise of his shoulders and how his neck tightens. A response flies from his mouth opposite of any Hijikata had expected.

 _"I don't know."_ The words come out fast and with a frantic edge. It makes Hijikata freeze as those deadfish eyes grow alert and bright, taught and ready for _something._ That was Hijikata's fault, he supposed. Gintoki, while more aware of his surroundings than one might think, had been sitting rather contemplatively. He'd even forgotten his dango, opting to stare off into space while gnawing on a moist stick.

But the edge to his tone makes Hijikata's breath hitch. His hand flies to his sword and he peaks around, not obvious but suddenly aware that the shopkeeper is inside and the streets are far too full for comfort.

But for the wariness that Gintoki exudes and for how it threw Hijikata's nerves into an angry spiral, there was no threat to be seen. And, instead, Gintoki blinks up at the man. His face scrunches and pale brows pull down as the stick falls from suddenly numb lips.

 _Ah._ He sighs but the exhale shakes his lungs and he reaches for the remaining dango, fingers trembling but not enough for anyone to notice. If only Hijikata weren't a cop. But he doesn't mention it, opting to pull out a cigarette and light it, taking his own time to settle jumpy nerves.

For the war-hardened samurai Hijikata knows the man to be, he shouldn't be thrown off by a simple question. So, Hijikata takes a drag and exhales it slowly, careful to wait for Gintoki to finish his bite and he waits an extra second so the man can settle himself.

"We're trying to meet with him. He didn't tell us where. So, where is he?"

Gintoki blinks for a second before raising his brow. And, _just_ to be an asshole, he takes another bite of dango. But he does turn away and stares at passerby. None of them had noticed the scene; there was hardly a scene to notice. And yet the energy hasn't fully died down and Gintoki's sword, while abandoned at his side, is only a twitch away.

"Oh, yeah. Zura mentioned something like that. He's at Ikumatsu's." Hijikata would bite his head off for that. He knew, he _knew?_ And yet he'd still responded like that? So confused and jostled and suddenly alert as if prepared for an attack?

That didn't make any sense but Hijikata knew it'd be useless to pry. If Gintoki's anything, it's a masking asshole that would never explain himself if he could. And right now, Hijikata doesn't have the time nor patience. He has to meet with _Katsura,_ the oddest human being Hijikata has ever had the displeasure of working with. But they need to take down an opposing Joui party that has proven to be far more vicious than Katsura. So viscous that Katsura had turned to the Shinsengumi for aid. They had both reached their wits end, it seemed.

Thankfully, Katsura didn't want anything from them for it (or so he said.) Only for the streets to be clean of those rampaging idiots that foolishly claim to fight for the humans but prove to simply be anti-amanto.

So Hijikata storms off and leaves that airhead to his own devices. He makes a point to not look back.

However, the next time it happens, it isn't so dismissible. 

A bomb went off near the Shogun's Palace. Security went haywire trying to hunt down the responsible party, barking at every branch of police and hounding on the Shinsengumi, demanding a head. Of course, the Shinsengumi knew of only one bomb-dealing patriot. But while the Shinsengumi couldn't imagine Katsura being responsible (it didn't look like his handiwork, let alone the motive was all wrong,) the higher ups demanded Katsura be brought in. With hands tied, the Shinsengumi began a futile search.

It isn't long before they wind up in the Yorozuya flat. Kondo, of course, had been adamant about going with Hijikata, and Sougo, well, he thought it'd be fun.

When they walk in, the chaos begins immediately.

“ _Ew,_ what’s that pile of trash doing in here? He’ll stink up the place!” Kagura plugs her nose for extra effect, staring down at Sougo and stomping, heel grinding into the ground.

“Kagura-chan, we don’t know what they’re here for,” Shinpachi pokes at her. The Shinsengumi have come to them for odd jobs in the past, so who’s to say they might not do it again? Surprisingly, Gintoki doesn't say anything. He's sitting at his desk and staring at the trio, gaze steady but bored.

“Oi, Danna, the china's cracked you should just throw it out,” Sougo says but the words come careful and slow, aware that something isn't quite right and that Gintoki's hardly surprised by their presence. But Gintoki doesn't bite back. The room, for how Kagura steams, is oddly silent. Atmosphere suddenly tense as they wait for the boss to speak.

“What do you want? Your uniform is bad for business, ya know?” Gintoki finally speaks up in a lazy drawl and his pinky soon finds itself in his nose.

“What business?” Hijikata stabs back and glares at the silver samurai. “God, you’re disgusting.” He growls but there's no heat. In fact, the absence of it makes Gintoki pause. And so the permed samurai doesn't shoot back about how he's a model citizen, he doesn't whine over how hurtful the words might have been. He just stares, wipes snot on his desk, and crosses his arms.

It makes Hijikata pause for a moment. Sougo had been too busy pushing Kagura's buttons while Kondo was pressing for the brother-in-law he'd always wanted, asking for _Otae-chan this, and Otae-chan that!_ So Hijikata's the only one that watches Gintoki stand from his desk (though the others are hyper aware of it, keeping an eye on him without being obvious.) Gintoki taps a few fingers on the worn wood and shakes his mop head, silver curls bouncing along. He audibly sighs and runs a hand through his hair before letting it rest on a knot in his shoulder.

"I don't know anything about the bombing." He just comes out and says it. Hijikata can't help but freeze at that and they all turn to him, eyes wide and brows raised.

He's notorious for beating around the bush and needlessly pushing buttons. They should have been here for at least a few more minutes before even bringing up Katsura. The bombing itself shouldn't have come up for half an hour. But Hijikata stares at the man and catches dark bags under his eyes, catches how his shoulders are slumped a bit more than usual. For someone that tends to keep things suffocatingly close, it's too obvious how tired he is, exhausted from God knows what (and Hijikata isn't sure he wants to know. Someone like Gintoki wouldn't be pulled down so easily.)

But for the exhaustion that pulls at his aura, his eyes still hold a gleam. It's a warning. The Shinsengumi have seen it many times before, sometimes with Gintoki himself. And they don't want to fight him if they can help it. They'd have a chance if it was just the three of them and Gintoki, but with those brats and an inugami? They'd never stand a chance.

"We'll have to bring you in for questioning. It's standard procedure," Hijikata states. And it is. While they had managed to keep Gintoki's past out of the records (as much as they could,) they couldn't hide that the man had been involved with Katsura. They'd been on the news for the Inui embassy bombing, after all.

"Please don't make this hard, Yorozuya," Kondo asks but really, he's pleading. But Gintoki doesn't look to the pitiful gorilla. Instead, his eyes drift to the two kids. They don't seem scared, worried, perhaps, but not scared. And if he were to deny them their interrogation (because that's what it will be. They have too much evidence and he knows where that bomb went off,) those kids would jump to his aid no questions asked. "We know it wasn't Katsura."

Kagura gawks at that and Shinpachi sits there, too stunned for any questions to fall from his lips. They both look between Gintoki and Kondo, suddenly confused. Gintoki, however, hardly reacts.

Instead, the man sighs and his eyes briefly sweep over his discarded bokuto. He wouldn't fight the government over something like this. It isn't like there's a promise involved with Oboro's head at the end. Plus, they know as well as he does that Katsura didn't plant the bomb. Civilians got injured and it was too close to the Shogun for comfort. That wasn't Katsura's style, they all know that. But the higher ups? A bomb-wielding terrorist is little more than that. A terrorist. A threat to be subdued without question.

"Fine, fine. Let's get this over with." The kids are quick to protest, though the protest themselves are soft, concern flooding their eyes as they turn to the man. He chuckles at that and places a hand on each of their heads, messing their hair up before leaving them in the absence of his warmth. "Don't get in too much trouble, I'll be back soon."

* * *

The journey to the barracks is oddly silent and needlessly stuffy. Gintoki tries to fix that but it doesn't seem to work. So, he settles on staring out the cruiser window and lets his thoughts wander. He doesn't mean to zone out, but suddenly the scenery changes and the car slows to a halt, the low hum cut off by a quick turn of a key. It startles Gintoki and he turns from the window, eyes lingering on the building outside before finally stepping out.

The barracks themselves aren't much different. At first, he almost takes the lead, feet taking him to a place he had been many times before. Except, as he takes a step towards a hallway, the other three _turn._ Gintoki startles at the shift but they have him surrounded. He follows, but not without questions and complaints. Sougo helps him, bouncing off the mans comments and shrugging when Gintoki prods at whatever's happening.

Hijikata stays stiff as does Kondo, although the gorilla is far worse at hiding it. He walks with knees almost locked and the veins in his neck pop.

(Vaguely, he recalls Kondo taking a phone call during the ride. But he'd been a bit busy and suddenly he finds himself wishing he had eaves dropped. Something happened, something big, and suddenly he'd rather _not_ have come so willingly.)

"I thought you were just gonna ask some dumb questions: 'Do you know Katsura Kotaro, have you been in contact,' blah blah blah." Kondo flinches and Hijikata bites down on his cigarette. And now, _now_ Gintoki recognizes where they're headed. It's dark and the hallways grow musty, lighting turning into the yellow glow of a flame and the flickering of worn bulbs. Familiar wooden cells line the walls and he remembers the last time they had been here. Back then, they'd been freed to wreck havoc on their corrupt government.

Gintoki doubts that will be the case again.

"Sorry, Yorozuya. But with it being so close to the Shogun, the higher ups, they got involved." Kondo manages to keep his head tall as they finally reach what will be Gintoki's cell. The Shinsengumi members stop at the door, Gintoki in the middle. He'd yet to fight them, opting for an air of nonchalance. After all, he'd agreed to come and now was the time to gather information.

"The higher ups?" That meant a few things, but looking at their torn faces (or what little he could see in such abysmal lighting,) Gintoki couldn't be sure just _what_ _._ "If they know about me, how am I alive?" If his Shiroyasha status were common knowledge, he wouldn't be allowed to run the Yorozuya. But clearly that question had been the wrong one. The Shinsengumi lose their composure to stare at him, brow raised in disbelief and Sougo can't help but snort.

"Danna, they've tried to kill you. A _lot."_ Gintoki knocks the words around his empty head before shrugging and sticking a pinky in his nose. "You're better at avoiding it than Hijikata-bastard." They steadfastly ignore Hijikata's fuming, seeing as it _is_ a daily occurrence. Instead, Gintoki takes out his pinky and inspects the tip.

"Oh yeah, guess government dogs just aren't good at their jobs," he jabs before subtly wiping his finger on Hijikata's uniform. "Not that that's anything new. You can't even give me one of the good cells. I'll give you 300 yen for a cell that doesn't smell like piss." It's his usual gag, but it really _does_ smell like piss. Rank and moldy and dark enough that Gintoki won't be getting near the back wall any time soon.

"Get in there." Hijikata shoves at the man but Gintoki evades it and spins around, arms crossed and nose pointed up.

"I want first class! And a parfait - no, two parfaits. Not this _shithole._ It that - is that a literal hole of _shit?"_ He points inside and pinches his nose because now he can smell it. The sourness and a stench that floats in the air, brushing them in phantom waves. "No way am I getting in there. No. Way."

"Dammit, Yorozuya!" Hijikata growls before attempting to manhandle the man. It would be possible to wrestle Gintoki inside, _should_ be, at least. But Kondo doesn't help, opting to stare into the cell with his brows pulled, face the picture of constipation, half buried in darkness and his wrinkles stand out with hollow shadows. Opposite of him, Sougo just watches with his phone at the ready.

So, Hijikata and Gintoki dance around each other. Gintoki doesn't race around but in quick movements he stays out of Hijikata's reach. And the vice-chief? He just growls and snaps at the permed samurai, hissing and shoving any chance he gets. Eventually, Gintoki stops, only to grab onto the wooden cell bars.

"Yorozuya I swear to _God_ if you don't get in this damn cell!" Hijikata snaps and grabs the mans shoulders. He clenches and pushes but Gintoki almost seamlessly holds back (his muscles do quiver but he stands his ground, grip firm on thick wood.)

"Not without a parfait!"

"God damn you - _fine!_ Fine we'll get your damn parfait!" Hijikata grits out and puts all his force into pushing the samurai in.

"Oh, okay." And with that, Gintoki doesn't let go. No, he swings out of the way and they watch Hijikata stumble into the cell, tripping over himself and the force he had put into the motion.

Too bad Sougo's phone has a light and the disgusting _squelch_ is soon followed by the unmistakable sound of a shutter.

In the light, Gintoki almost pouts that Hijikata hadn't fallen into the hole face first. But the censored clump on his pant leg and the scowl across his face?

Priceless.

 _"You,"_ he growls low, eye shining in a bright and dangerous red. But with the next step is another squelch and he bristles, throat rumbling as he roars. _"You!"_

"Toshi!" Kondo intercepts the demon, grappling him and holding the man in place. Of course, Hijikata doesn't push against Kondo full strength, but he still pushes. Kondo manages to hold the man back and slowly, Hijikata seems to calm down.

That doesn't stop Gintoki or Sougo from chuckling at his plight, eyes shining in mirth. They're surprised the man didn't immediately draw his sword.

But as the commotion dies down, Gintoki, nose still pinched, turns to Sougo. But the boy seems just as confused as himself. At the very least, he'd been left out of the loop on what exactly had happened. So Gintoki doesn't complain to the boy about the cell. If Sougo could change it, he's sure the boy would. That or he was responsible, but that didn't seem to be the case.

Begrudgingly, Gintoki steps into the cell once Kondo drags Hijikata out. However, the two take their leave, Hijikata grumbling as Kondo glances over his shoulder. Gintoki steadfastly ignores the man's expression, choosing to think the darkness in his gaze was from the poor lighting, that the bags under his eyes were from more than stress.

Sougo closes the door on the man. It creaks all the way, echoing in the empty prison and before latching shut. The ominous _click_ sends one final warning throughout.

It bounces around Gintoki's head long after the echoes cease. At the sharp click of the lock turning, naseau forms a knot in his throat and his chest lurches, an involuntary chill rushing through his nerves.

 _This_ was not supposed to happen.

"Bring a damn parfait," he says as he looks around the cell. Sougo responds, some sort of affirmation, not that Gintoki really pays attention to it.

He eyes the cell and can picture the last time he had been in one - _really_ been in it. From long before the time with the rest of the Yorozuya and that sadistic queen. When he'd sat against a cold stone wall by himself, thoughts wandering and body aching.

But as his thoughts wander, a stone gets lodged in his throat and a pressure builds in his temples, a burning behind his eyes. So he plops down and forces his thoughts to cease (it doesn't work.)

When Kondo comes back, Hijikata's at his side. Gintoki can't be sure how much time had passed but his butt's grown numb and his legs burn as he stands, blood rushing down them in a wave of heat.

The grim lines of their faces makes Gintoki's stomach pool in dread, chest heavy as he turns to them.

"I said I wanted a parfait." Kondo sighs as Hijikata unlocks the cell, neither willing to entertain him. He hadn't really expected it, not with Sougo absent.

And where was the little devil?

Gintoki doesn't ask. Once the door opens, he steps out. Although, when he hears the rattle of chains he immediately yanks away, burned by the touch and a hand flies to his hip.

(His breath quickens but he shoves it down, trapping it in his throat.)

 _"Oi,"_ he growls, but he pauses before his voice has the chance to crack, "no need for that. I came willingly, I'm not gonna run away now." The handcuffs in Kondo's hands rattle again and Gintoki's heart lurches.

Against his will, he'd grown used to cells and the feeling of his back against those gapped walls. He'd _never_ get used to that light, clinking metal and he can almost feel it press against his wrists, thin and pinching.

"Sorry, we didn't," Kondo breathes. "Sorry, Yorozuya, we tried to keep the higher ups away." Gintoki believes him, he does. Kondo's proven to be too honest and pure for his own good.

But Gintoki can so clearly see the concern in those dark eyes, the regret, the worry that Kondo should really learn to mask.

It makes Gintoki's throat tighten and he fights to not clear it.

"Well my orders override those damn dogs. I'm not-"

"Sakata," Hijikata cuts him off sharply. It makes Gintoki freeze; people didn't call him that. His family name was hardly even such, more of something he'd chosen for legality and little more. It makes Gintoki look to the man. His lips are drawn into a thin, grim line. The glint in his eyes makes another pebble fall into Gintoki's gut.

Gintoki hadn't expected to see those same emotions in Hijikata's eyes.

But Gintoki isn't a man to be taken lightly or off guard, even at being called by his surname like some child. Again, he evades the cuffs but he doesn't run. They clink behind him, so close, threatening him with what he knows he won't escape for long.

They're worried. The concern flooding their eyes, this isn't something they can just 'accidentally' free him from. The both of them came for a reason.

They can't escape whatever this is and neither can he.

(He could, he knows that. If he fought they might not prevent his escape as they should. That would work, but he understands this is more serious than he knows.)

"You owe me a weeks worth of parfaits," he finally sighs. Then, he spins to Hijikata and, before the man can realize just what he's doing, he's grabbed the cuffs himself. In a swift movement, too swift for his own brain to stop him, he snaps one of the cuffs on his own wrist.

It clicks in a familiar sound. Another pebble drops. He cleanly ignores it, choosing to believe that the burning behind his eyes is from the sudden headache (but that doesn't explain how his heart constricts nor does it support the dryness of his mouth.) He runs a tongue along his teeth before putting his arms out to Hijikata to close the second one.

"What happened?" He doesn't croak the words out but Kondo still flinches at the question.

“Someone wanted to lead the investigation,” Kondo says stiffly. Clearly uncomfortable, as if the world had been pulled out right under their feet. As if whoever this 'someone' is had proven to be important, and dangerous. For both Gintoki and the Shinsengumi.

"I'm gonna give Zura hell if he did do this. Thought he made peace with the friggin' Shogun," he grumbles as Hijikata silently clasps the other cuff. The man hadn't done so immediately, opting to watch the interaction in a police-characteristic silence.

The click is too silent for how momentous it is. But it still manages to take his breath away and as he takes a gulp it sticks heavy in his throat. Thick and suffocating.

He jerks involuntarily, chain rattling and arms taught but they're quick to grab his shoulders. For how friendly they had been, it's suddenly a prisoner and it's captors and for how familiar the touch may be, for how light they try to hold him, Gintoki still stiffens underneath it.

"It'll be quick," Kondo says lowly. Gintoki knows an empty promise when he hears one but Kondo's just a nice guy, yet to learn that beliefs and reality are two different things. "Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

"If you didn't want me to be difficult, you shouldn't have cuffed me. I've done nothing wrong." It's his usual gag; he's done plenty wrong. But that was in the past, he's been quite adamant about that. And they've realized that, for all the times they've had to arrest him for the foolish ways he acts in public, he really hasn't done any _wrong._ Just wrong in the eyes of the law. And in their world, there's no difference. Not if the Shinsengumi have no say. And right now, they don't.

"We have our own team on the case so you won't have to be here long." _Hopefully_ is hinted in Kondo's voice but none of them mention it. Gintoki isn't really surprised, not by their uncertainty nor by the fact that the Shinsengumi have managed to go under their superiors noses. No doubt Yamazaki's prowling behind the scenes, reporting only to Shinsengumi ears, compiling evidence in Katsura's defense and hunting down the _real_ bad guy.

They make a turn and Gintoki quickly realizes that they aren't leaving the building. There's only one place they could be headed and he can admit he's surprised the Shinsengumi have such a room. Although, with someone as sadistic as Sougo, it makes sense.

So, he takes a breath and the façade falls into place immediately. It almost makes it easier to breathe, but, at the very least, he can pretend so.

"Ah, I missed Ketsuno Ana! What'd she have to say? How'd she look?" He rambles on, not entirely sure if he _had_ missed her but he feels like its been hours. No windows.

They didn't have windows back then either. Back then, it had been damp and muggy, and the cells were full of people. At least, they had been before they got executed one by one. There had grown to only be a handful of them left, all of them waiting for their time. Some of them praying for it. "Those damn brats probably didn't record 'Ladies Four' for me, the brats," he groans lightly but peeks an eye out through his fringe. There's a room with yellow light pooling into the dark pathway. Had they informed the kids he'd be gone for longer? Are they just sitting at home waiting for him?

He hopes not but he knows those idiots. Soon enough they'll be barging into the compound. Hopefully everything gets sorted out before then, he'd come willingly for a reason, after all, and he'd rather they _not_ destroy that. "Where are you taking me, anyway?"

They don't respond at first and Kondo bites his inner lip, eyes landing anywhere but that room or Gintoki. Hijikata breathes out a sigh.

"The head wanted to see you. Personally." A chill runs down Gintoki's arms and he stiffens again. Their grip tightens on him but he doesn't pull away, his feet only dig into the ground for half a second - too short for them to have to pull him along, but long enough for them to stutter.

Gintoki just clicks his tongue. His skin crawls, itching for a sword right then. He could disarm Kondo, take his and run. They'd be too shocked and by the time the weapon were in his hands, cuffs or not, they wouldn't be able to stop him. He could do it.

He could have done it back then, too. But instead he shoves every instinct in him down, caging everything in his chest until it's tightly bound and compresses his heart into a diamond.

"Amanto?" He finally asks as they get closer. He can smell the cleanliness of the room, sharp in chemicals as if carefully scrubbed. And recently. It makes Gintoki's nose crinkle.

"No." Suddenly, the flimsy weight of the cuffs feel so much heavier, tighter, digging into his skin. Too tight and constricting.

They enter the room and thankfully the light isn't so blinding, the bulb's old and one of them flickers in yellow overuse. Or disuse, Gintoki can't be too sure.

When he sees the _who,_ the head of this shit storm, the blood drains from his face. He stares, eyes so wide they burn and his face grows numb. His naturally pale complexion does nothing to hide it but he can only hope the bad lighting helps.

(But he can't help it when his body responds, muscles taught and he tugs against the hands holding him. Not enough for the chain to rattle but enough for them to squeeze back. He can't tell if it's supposed to be a comforting gesture but his mind's too occupied to care.)

He knows an interrogation room when he sees one, been in one too many times to count (he'd tried counting once, curious as to how long they'd try before realizing nothing would work. He never thought that they'd never stop.)

"Didn't know you had a room like this," he says and licks his lips, careful to calm his heart and school his face. "Is it Souchiro-kun's? Can I borrow his dungeon some time? I'll give him 300 yen." The man in the room doesn't respond to the jab. Instead, he prowls forward, eyes going up and down the samurai like the predator he can only pretend to be.

"When they said they had you, I didn't believe it," he drawls. Hijikata can't help but relate the bakufu dog to more of a sewer rat, greasy and revolting, hair matted in a permanent state of sweat. Maybe a pig would fit better, but he's far too scrawny and the hollowness of his being too desperate.

"Kondo-san," Hijikata pipes up, making a point to interrupt whatever the man was going to say. He glares at Hijikata but the anger leaves as he looks back to his prey. "I'll take it from here." Kondo's obviously uncomfortable but he doesn't want to leave. He had seen the room before grabbing Gintoki, had spoken to the man even. And he knows what they're going to put him through. The man had seemed obsessive, excited to see Gintoki and if he was _the real deal._ As if he knew the man and would recognize him on sight.

Judging by Gintoki's stiffness, it made Kondo less keen to abandon him here.

"Lead you men," Hijikata says, stern but gentle. Kondo just blinks and, slowly, he relaxes his grip on Gintoki. When they had initially gone to Gintoki, it was supposed to be a quick round of questioning. They knew he'd be fine with that. He'd probably end up annoying the interrogator to the point of quitting.

Then this guy walked in proclaiming his position and he'd requested the bare interrogation room be prepared for a session. Of course they fought it, they fought as hard as they could, but orders are orders and he had all the paperwork prepared before hand. As if he knew they'd argue. The twisted smirk he'd offered them wasn't comforting in the slightest. So, they'd immediately sent Sougo out to figure out the incident as quickly as possible. And while on any other occasion Sougo would have brushed it off, once he'd seen that rat of a man, he'd raced off with Yamazaki in tow.

But Sougo couldn't do it alone and they'd need their Chief.

So Kondo leaves, but as he does he catches the mans next words.

"How the mighty have fallen. Oh _great Shiroyasha._ If it were anyone else, they wouldn't believe their eyes. But we know better, don't we." He sends a twisted smile, teeth crooked and yellow and Hijikata can't help how his nose pulls at the sight. "Where's your spirit now?"

"It's in the freezer. By the end of the day, it'll be gone," Gintoki states blandly, his comeback as fast as it typically would be. The man twitches for a moment before slinking closer. Hijikata could almost believe Gintoki didn't care about the movement, only, he's still holding the mans arm. While Gintoki's expression doesn't change, his muscles tense in preparation. "Ah, hopefully those brats don't get into it, they're too young. They grow up so fast don't they, _Oogushi-kun."_ He brings out that old nickname and Hijikata twitches, anger shooting down his spine in a quick, hot spurt.

"Actin' all high 'n mighty, aren't ya." The man steps right into Gintoki's space. He's far shorter than the permed male, greasy hair on full display and they can so clearly see his scalp underneath thready hair. His dull eyes bore right into deadfish crimson. "But you remember me."

"Yeah, I remember how bad your breath stinks. Mayora, have you been feeding this rat your dog shit?" The hit comes fast but to the man's chagrin, Gintoki hardly flinches. It throws his head to the side, neck snapping and Hijikata jolts at the suddenness. Gintoki's cheek warms to a red hue but he just turns back to the male and cocks a brow. His nose didn't even bleed. "Oh, you're Patch-kun!" The man throws another hit, fist landing on the other cheek. But Gintoki expected it. Hijikata watches with wide eyes as Gintoki stills, head still turned away and eyes are now shadowed by a silver fringe.

He's slow in turning back to the man this time. But, when he does, his eye glows a bright red right through his hair and he spits a dark wad of blood onto the man's shirt. He meets those vomit green eyes and a sadistic smirk tugs at the corner of a bloody lip. "Ah, Tonari-kun."

The smile he sends the man, teeth bloodied and eyes bright and dangerous, it makes Hijikata's mind spin. For the situation they're in, Gintoki seems to be the one in control. A demon eyeing it's prey.

The man doesn't hit Gintoki again. Rather, he cracks his own grin. Beside Gintoki's sadistic nature, the man seems more of a rat full of fake confidence. As if he were putting on a show for himself, something he'd seen in shows yet had never felt himself.

Hijikata's seen Gintoki's sadistic side only a handful of times. And while Sougo has that side of his own, Gintoki's has always proven to be different. Darker, somewhat self-destructive in nature, it's only goal to ruin the other with a complete disregard for oneself.

"Kneel, dog." And he kicks the back of Gintoki's knee. But the movement isn't as quick as a warriors and he'd announced the action beforehand, so Gintoki refuses to buckle.

"You call that a-" This hit is unexpected, as if the man had expected the first ones failure. Gintoki falls and his knees crack against the stone floor, loud and his skin grows hot at the contact. But he doesn't wince, just looks back up. Again, his eyes shine through his bangs, bright, like a fire Hijikata hopes doesn't get released.

By now, the Vice-Chief has stepped back, his grip grows white on his sword as he waits for the rat - _Tonari-kun_ \- to go far enough that he can end this. But those damn corrupt officials - it needs to be something he can explain. He hardly makes eye contact with Gintoki but the spare glance is enough. He knows Gintoki isn't holding this against him. He'd realized what would happen the second they hadn't taken him to the typical interrogation room. He'll joke about free food and the odd parfait, but he understands. After all, he has something to protect, too.

Odd enough, the thought that the idiot won't be mad just makes Hijikata's skin boil.

"Did you get demoted? How sad," Gintoki drawls as Tonari walks around the room, acting in some sort of classic intimidation tactic. As if Gintoki would fall for that. It hardly sends a shiver down Hijikata's spine, the man's pitiful in the fake aura he exudes. Hijikata doesn't doubt the man's sadistic, but Sougo's far worse.

And Gintoki? There's a reason that young sadist respects Gintoki so much.

"Demoted? I'm leading this case," he growls as he reaches the table, acting as if they shouldn't have expected such. It's darker by the table, shadows deep and they can't quite see his expression. Not that that matters, they can read the rat clear as day. He picks up a curved blade but Gintoki doesn't react in the slightest. If his face were anything to go by, he'd have a pinky up his nose if he could.

"That wasn't smart of them. You should be demoted, you're really bad at this." And he is, but for Gintoki to outright say it? Hijikata almost snorts out a laugh but he presses his nails into his palm and keeps it at bay. This is far too serious for him to be laughing at some idiot's jabs.

"You're the only person that never broke. But I've learned since then." he turns from the table and his eyes land on the hose. Their malicious glint doesn't go unnoticed.

"Oh no! Help me! I'm _soooo scared!_ " Gintoki sticks out his bottom lip but his eyes stay dull and dead, tone far too fake to not grate on nerves. But the fakeness of Tonari's confidence has slunk away, if only a little, and he grabs the hose.

"We'll start easy: Where is Katsura Kotaro?" He starts with the basics, setting the grounds for what they want. He finds a tub.

Hijikata doesn't startle at the question but his eyes fly to Gintoki. _Where is Katsura Kotaro?_ Something clicks in his head, something that had happened a while back. He'd almost forgotten it but he'd asked that same thing. And Gintoki's response had thrown him for a loop.

He didn't like where this was headed, didn't like the dots connecting.

This time, Gintoki doesn't flinch. As if he'd fully expected the question, and from this person no less.

"Probably with a widow."

“Where is Takasugi Shinsuke?” He places a hand on the tub and his nails tap the hard surface in a dull _tap, tap, tap_ , his intentions clear. Gintoki eyes it for hardly a second.

“Plotting the end of Edo.”

“Where is Sakamoto Tatsuma?”

“ _Not_ plotting the end of Edo. Is he on your list? That’s sad.”

Hijikata would have thought nothing of the motion if he hadn’t been at the beach with Gintoki when the man had inhaled some water. Actually, he'd inhaled a _lot_ of water, and then he'd thrown it all up and convulsed in a manner quite different than that of someone who had simply gone for a deep dive. It had been obvious to Hijikata what had happened, but he didn't expect it to happen _again._

When Tonari turns away from Gintoki and starts filling up the tub, the samurai turns his head. He doesn't look at Hijikata, that would require more movement, but his attention is clear. His _in_ tentions, not so much.

“Just tell him,” Hijikata says. _Get out of this._ If Gintoki's reaction from before was anything to go by, this was not going to go smoothly at all. But to stop an interrogation at the start wasn't something Hijikata could do.

“Nah, this is too much fun.” _No_. Hijikata almost barks out a laugh at the idiot, but it's far too serious and yelling at the man would do nothing. “Rats are fun to play with sometimes.” That’s harder for Hijikata to read. Perhaps it was to get a rise out of Tonari for God-knows-why. Or maybe to remind Hijikata that he had dealt with this before? That he’ll be fine?

(But would he be? Hijikata didn't think so.)

“But not for a long time.” He shouldn't want to play with _this_ rat. Water hits the tub sharply, the pressure not too strong but the stream is steady and heavy against the empty metal, ringing lowly at first. Slowly, they hear the water fill, hose sitting at the edge so the rush of water echoes in the room, hollow yet thick.

Such a normal sound and yet it thunders in Gintoki's ears, deafening.

Hijikata watches how Gintoki tenses, shoulders raising before he forces them back, steady but stiff. A forced calm for Tonari to mistake as a lazy dismissal. 

“What, you’ve never played with a rat before? That’s how you become an official adult. Well, this is Gin-sans time, go wait your turn.” There’s hardly any reading between the lines for that. Although Hijikata could snap back, he has nothing to say. What could he say? Hijikata had interrogated people before, even employed methods that Kondo could surely not sit through, but this was futile to do to Gintoki.

And Gintoki shouldn't have to sit through this alone. Not again (Hijikata sneers at that. _Again,_ because Gintoki has already been through this, and with the same person. He couldn't begin to imagine what this must be like but he knows he won't leave.)

“No.” He stays adamant and strong. He needs to be direct and he can’t hide his smugness at Gintoki’s wide eyes. He had offered a clear escape to be made in irritation. He doesn’t want Hijikata here for this. But Hijikata would not believe that the man wants to be alone, no one would be.

(Although, wouldn't he ask the same? Wouldn't he want Gintoki to not see him in this moment of forced weakness?)

Then they hear the water stop, left in silence except for the _drip, drip,_ of the abandoned hose.

“Well, Shiroyasha-dono - that’s what they called you, right?” Tonari asks so menacingly sweet. At that, Gintoki snaps his head to the man, chest constricted and brows creased at hearing such the name. He doesn't respond and an uncomfortable silence drifts through the room as Gintoki settles himself.

Only, then he tilts his head up. Slow and forcibly restrained, he trembles as he meets Tonari's gaze.

“The name’s Gintoki-sama to you, _To-na-ri-kun._ ” Venom drips from Gintoki’s words and it’s a tone that catches Hijikata off-guard. Gintoki hardly uses it in battle and he sure as hell doesn’t use it in casual bickering. It’s the sort of tone that sends a shiver down his spine and makes his skin curl, even when isn’t directed at him. Of course Gintoki could easily intimidate, but he’s so good at playing the fool it’s easy to forget.

Gintoki ruled a battlefield where swords should have been obsolete. People _fear_ the Shiroyasha, a mere human, and that means something.

For whatever confidence Tonari had regained, he shakes at the tone. Only for a second, a second of fear where he takes a sharp breath and stares at Gintoki with wide eyes, but it's enough.

"That's what they would call you. After you escaped. We caught some of the others, you know." He's treading on dangerous territory but Hijikata isn't sure the man knows. But Hijikata does. He's never seen Gintoki so still, frozen but not in fear. The anger rolls off him in waves and his chin tilts down enough that they can't see his eyes. He shakes, chest rattling with each exhale, but behind him his fists clench, nails pressing deep crescents into his palms. "They refused to tell us where you were hiding. Eventually, we had to give up, put them out of their misery and assume you'd died in the cold. So imagine my shock when you appear one day, you even turned yourself in!" Tonari cackles hollowly and it bounces off the moldy walls. A light flickers in the back before going out for good in a silent _snap._ It throws the tub into darkness, gray and cold, hose still dripping.

_Drip, drip... drip._

"You tortured them." Gintoki's voice comes low, thick in anger and a chill travels down Hijikata's spine. They can't see his face but in the darker lighting, he sits like a white shadow. Heavy and Hijikata's instincts scream _danger._ His heart thumps in his ears and he swallows down whatever uneasiness he can.

He'd never before understood how angelic white could be related to a demon.

Tonari freezes once again and wipes sweaty palms on his pants. But, looking at Gintoki with the light to his back, he sees a singular glowing eye. A clear threat and fear prickles underneath Tonari's skin, tearing at any comfort he may have had in a room he had constructed. He can't swallow past the thickness of his throat so he clears it. It thunders in his ears, but then he freezes as Gintoki shifts, cuffs clinking and Tonari becomes acutely aware of how obvious he made his moment of weakness.

"Bring him here," Tonari says, words clipped and short, careful to not let his voice crack or go any higher than it already has. Hijikata tenses at the command, wary as his gaze drifts to Gintoki's form. "You, bring him here, _now."_ Hijikata bites his lip before taking careful steps. His shoes clack against the stone floor, _click, click, click,_ and soon he's behind Gintoki.

But he doesn't want to touch the man. Wary of his anger, an anger that has, time and time again, threatened to topple anything in its path. Be that Hijikata or the Shogun himself. Hijikata wouldn't be surprised if he turned his blade to the Tendoshuu next.

Slowly, he lays a hand on the man's shoulder. At first, the touch is light, a question as to if this was okay. If he could pull him forward or if Gintoki would fight (he hoped the man would.) But Gintoki doesn't still and doesn't tense. Instead, his muscles unravel beneath the touch and he sags. Visibly. His shoulders fall and his head bobs forward.

The instant Hijikata felt the man fall, twisted in front of him, quick to hide him from view and falling to his haunches. He can't talk, the room's far to silent except for the _drip, drip,_ behind them. But he places both hands on the man's shoulders and gives a gentle squeeze.

The anger isn't gone. It still thrums underneath, acidic in it's burning, but an emptiness has also taken hold. Gintoki doesn't look up but Hijikata can feel it in the lack of response to his touches.

 _You tortured them._ It wasn't a question and there wasn't a hopeful edge, but the anger had grown from pain. From the idea that _he_ had been responsible for the torture - it was the first time he'd ever heard Gintoki use the word - of people he'd interacted with once upon a time. People that had called him 'Shiroyasha-dono' purely out of respect for his strength and resilience (and possibly more, but there was no asking them. They were long gone and it was his fault.)

"Move." It isn't a command, although Hijikata makes sure it sounds like enough of one for Tonari. But the edge is soft and he gives a light squeeze, eyes trained on Gintoki's pale face. It's a question, a prodding as to if Gintoki would move or even had the strength to.

In response, Gintoki gets his feet under him and Hijikata helps the man stand. The permed samurai straightens his back but his chin stays low, eyes hidden, and Tonari didn't notice a thing.

With a hand clasped around Gintoki's upper arm, grip light but enough pressure to assure that he was there, they walk forward.

"Place him at the tub." Hijikata would have said _no, do it yourself,_ the words on the tip of his tongue. Only, Gintoki drops himself. His knees crack against the floor, the sight almost seeming as if Hijikata had pulled him down. "You're a good dog, aren't you? Loyal to a fault."

"And you're a rat," Hijikata sneers back, lip pulling at the man and his greasy existence. He hardly responds except to flash a yellowed smirk.

"Well, I'll ask one more time." They don't miss how he's careful to not poke the bear. No more 'Shiroyasha' or prodding about the friends he had lost. He grabs Gintoki by that familiar black and red collar and yanks him. His chin splits open on the side of the tub, a sharp _thud_ resounding, water rippling across its gray surface. "Oops." Gintoki tilts his head back and, once more, spits a black wad of blood onto the man.

The grin he cracks, bloody and tight, doesn't hold the same arrogance. His eyes shine but it isn't as demonic. It's subdued, a certain hollow acceptance to it that forces Hijikata to look away.

Tonari, again, doesn't seem to notice. Not if the stiffness of his arm is anything to go by. Blinded by fear, he keeps his chest puffed out and that yellow smirk on his face.

"Ah, Tonari-kun, no new tricks up your sleeve?" Gintoki's words are hollow, empty of their typical fire and he stops short of what he typically would.

When bony fingers dig into his hair, he doesn't flinch. When his head is pulled forward and his neck pops, he doesn't make a sound.

Then his face gets pushed into the water.

Gintoki stays still for a moment, and that moment seems to stretch for longer than Hijikata would have thought possible.

Then he starts thrashing.

It begins in subtle twitches: his hand spasms behind his back, his arm jolts, a shoulder thuds against the rim of the tub. He jolts, more and more, inhumane in the seizing and Hijikata can't tear his eyes away, a morbid fascination clenching around his lungs.

Tonari just cracks a larger grin as the man below him shudders, bubbles coming up much too fast and water splashes over the edge, dampening that familiar white yukata and soaking into Gintoki's pants.

Hijikata's hand shake at the sight as he hears the thudding against the tub and the splashing, but there's no submerged screaming, no familiar jabs.

As it crescendos, the thudding increasing, the man's leg spasms - Hijikata can't watch. He can't allow this, he can't just _sit here and do nothing._

He goes to move, fingers twitching and his sword _clinks_ as he grabs it. Only, Tonari takes the perfect moment to pull Gintoki up.

The man's face is bright red yet terrifyingly pale underneath, gaunt and waxy with a darkness growing around his eyes. He sputters out water and saliva and blood. It dribbles from his lips as he gasps, lungs rattling and breathes harsh, a mix of inhales and coughs that tear at his throat. The rats confidence slowly comes back as his fingers dig into the man's hair, threatening to tear it out in the sudden strength he'd gained.

“Where is Katsura Kotaro?” Gintoki sputters but he can't even manage a scowl. It takes all his strength for his lungs to work. His muscles grow sluggish, tired and his arm spasms, tensing involuntarily.

Why the hell did he let this happen?

_Let this happen._

_Tonari stands above him, sadistic malice shining in his eyes. The older man beside him is the one with a hand clenched in his waterlogged hair. He shakes Gintoki, a sharp pain tugging at his scalp and his head follows the jerky motion._

_“Where is Takasugi Shinsuke?” Tonari asks but Gintoki can’t_ **_breathe_** _,_ _let alone offer a snarky response._

_He gets shoved under without warning. Water floods his lungs and white hot pain sparks behind his eyes. He swallows too much too fast._

_Pain. Pain._ **_Pain_** **.**

_His body convulses, drowning, and he's more aware than he'd like of how it fills his lungs and burns around an erratic heart. He slams against the tub, bruises going from yellow to purple to black._

_Takasugi._

_He seizes and panic sets in as he just swallows more water. He needs air. He can’t die here - he can’t -_

_Why can’t he?_

_He’s pulled back out. The pain of his scalp being pulled has nothing on the fire in his lungs. He gags and spits up what he assumes to be a mix of water and blood and probably vomit. But he doesn’t care. His throat burns and his lungs are drowning. He'd never been a fan of water anyway._

_“... Saka… suma....” He hardly processes the words, too focused on getting rid of the rattle in his lungs. He spits out another clump of something and when he tries to see the room it’s too dark to make anything out between the black and white spots._

_He takes in half a breath before going under again, this time he swallows water alongside the initial breath. He bucks against the tub and fights with all his might but his muscles refuse to obey outside of sluggish spasms._

_For some stupid, idiotic reason, he still wants to live._

Hijikata can’t hide his mortification as Gintoki keeps getting put under. He’s completely stopped his snarky comments.

Every time Tonari yanks him back up, he gives shuddering gasps and splutters out clumps of water. Sometimes, he opens his eyes. Most of the time, he just gasps harshly and chokes on what little air gets past his lips, water dripping from frizzy hair and pooling in gray shadows.

Tonari hardly gives him a chance to breathe before going back under. The time between going under and his panic lessens until he seizes at the contact of the water against his face. The sort of reaction that would seep into his bones, chilling and as cold as the waters themselves, permanent in his being.

Outside of the splashing and involuntary gasps, he makes no other sound. And of all things, he doesn’t respond.

At this point, his mind's too jumbled to do much else. They both know that. They know that Gintoki won't be responding any time soon, that the questions are just for show at this point.

That Tonari is just having fun.

Hijikata's hand's gone numb with how hard he's holding his katana, the other burning as red crescents bloom in his palm.

_This was not supposed to happen._

This time, Tonari yanks Gintoki from the tub and has seemingly decided that the fun is over. He throws Gintoki back, carelessly, as if the proud samurai were little more than a sack of potatoes.

And now? Now Gintoki doesn't _care._ He doesn't care about seeming powerful and strong, doesn't care about jabbing at the rat, doesn't care about intimidating the room. He just rolls onto his side and splutters out as much water as he can. Gagging and vomiting up anything he might have eaten - that is, if he hadn't already done so - and he groans between the gasps. His eyes stay screwed shut and his hands, while numb, tremble. The chain clinks and he can hear it through the water in his ears. He can't feel the saliva or the blood past the chilling numbness from the water.

Tonari clicks his tongue.

"Stubborn bastard."

Gintoki doesn't hear him. His strangled gasps slowly peter out, replaced by rattled inhales and he shifts to spit out water rather than as vomit.

Hijikata knows he shouldn't go to his side, he knows he should save face, but his body moves of its own accord. He's by Gintoki's side in a moment, almost falls onto his knees but he's careful and instead lowers to his haunches.

He helps the man sit up and places a hand to the mans back, hitting him to help jostle his lungs into functioning properly. Gintoki doesn't say anything on it, just slowly cracks and eye open.

His pupils are shot and the whites of his eyes a bright red. They open but only barely, eyelids twitching and more keen to stay shut. Hijikata bites the inside of his lips and alters to rub the mans back, careful to offer any comfort he can. From farther away, Gintoki's pale skin had seemed waxy and gray, but up close there's a disturbingly blue tint to it and his arms won't stop trembling.

He'd always been proud of the Shinsengumi, still is, but the higher ups allowing this man to do such a thing? He'd never hated being the Vice-Chief more.

"Geez," Gintoki wheezes and Hijikata can hear how it grates against his throat and there's a rattle in his lungs. But he forces a smirk on, albeit unconvincing. "Told ya, I don' know."

"I was sure that would work," Tonari contemplates but Gintoki ignores him. He shifts, moving himself so the blood can rush back down his legs and breathing's easier.

After a few ragged breaths, he finds he can keep his eyes open for a little longer. _No beach trips any time soon,_ he realizes, half between a chuckle and a sigh. Except it falls into a coughing fit and his lungs struggle to hold in any of the air he'd struggled to gain. He gags and chokes, saliva spilling from his lips and water bubbles up his throat, bringing with it a wet cough and a watery stream of blood.

It makes Hijikata's heart churn and he freezes, a hand sturdy on Gintoki's back, and perhaps he presses too hard but it keeps him there and present.

“What kind of idiot doesn’t know where his oldest friend is?” Hijikata asks once his emotions are under control. He keeps his voice low and tries to hide the tremble but he’s pretty sure he isn’t doing a good job at that. Thankfully, Gintoki doesn’t bully him on that point. He's too busy trying to stay conscious, not that that's any better. Hijikata would rather the man's jibes.

“Says the dumbass,” he has to pause and breathe and clear his raw throat, “cursed with V-bangs. Is that a fash'n statement? Or s'it like Goku’s tail and it jus' grows back?”

“Shut it, perm head.”

“Leave,” again, an uncharacteristic pause as he breaths, chest rattling, “my perm outta this.”

“ _You_ brought hair in first, you dumbass.”

“So you admit you’re just copying me. Lame." He snorts at that but some water comes up, burning his sinuses and he can't help the wince, a light cough following but this one forced, hoping to clear the pain. Hijikata waits for the man to settle, tongue darting out to moisten dry lips (and itching for a cigarette but that can wait.)

“Lame? _I’m_ lame? You prediabetic-”

“Are you ladies done?” The interjection jolts them back to reality. While Hijikata hadn't necessarily forgotten where they were, Gintoki's eyes widen and his brows crease, gaze unfocused as he trails along the wall before landing on the snake in the room. He freezes at the sight, anxieties rolling in his gut as memories click into place. Hijikata watches the man shake himself into reality, water flying from a frizzy perm before finally settling. Although he still trembles, muscles refusing to calm in the aftermath of its panic.

When his eyes finally focus, they land on the whip in Tonari's hand. He doesn't even flinch.

Hijikata, however, _growls._

"You are _not_ whipping him."

"Worried for your friend? He's the Shiroyasha, he'll be fine." The words take Hijikata back and his heart plummets. He stares at Tonari, waiting for the man to change his words but he doesn't. When he looks back to Gintoki, the samurai's clearly not all there. He's half between a dream and reality but his eyes stay trained on Tonari.

What sort of excuse was that? What did Gintoki being the Shiroyasha have anything to do with _anything?_ He was still a human, wasn't he?

It makes Hijikata stare at Gintoki, waiting for a jab that wouldn't come. Had Gintoki heard that often? That him being the Shiroyasha meant he could withstand everything? He wasn't invincible, Hijikata knows that well enough. He'd seen the man become a helpless amnesic, watched as Tae stuck him in bed until his wounds healed. Heard of the idiot getting sick, which shouldn't be possible seeing how stupid he is.

The man was far from invincible.

Although, he sure fought like he was. He fought with a complete disregard for himself and his well-being, as if he fully expected to come out alive or didn't care if he died. And where did that come from? Before or after people had leaned on him and treated him like some immortal tool?

Looking back at Gintoki, he sees the man's eyes have grown dark, slow in processing the words but he got there. Hijikata wouldn't be surprised if Gintoki had withdrawn from reality and a darkness pools around his eyes and in his cheeks.

“The fuck does him being the Shiroyasha have anything to do with that? You _aren’t_ whipping him,” Hijikata snaps and looks to Tonari, because that’s the line and Tonari is _not_ crossing it. Not at the Shinsengumi compound and not in front of its Vice Chief.

“I’m above you, don’t forget that.”

“You’re at the Shinsengumi Compound, don’t forget _that,_ ” The black wolf growls and he wishes he had done so sooner. But he didn't and really, he couldn't, but he _should have._ Especially with this rat. He snarls, "Just _leave."_

“Make me, you bakufu-” he doesn’t get to finish as his feet are swept out from under him. Hijikata watches, air rushing from his lungs as Tonari free falls, eyes wide and too shocked to brace himself.

He falls right on his face. A satisfying _crack_ follows and he bounces, arms twisted and as his head rolls, Hijikata makes sure that the man's chest raises.

Then, he looks to the one who tripped him.

Gintoki's eyes are still shot, his muscles still tremble and he makes a point to not look at the abandoned whip. Instead, he sags and draws his foot away from the scum.

“Whatta klutz,” he says but there's no laughter behind his words, only exhaustion. The anger had long dried out and in its place he seemed a ghost of his former self. With a huff, he gets his feet under himself and goes to stand - or, he _tries_ to. But his legs shake and his lip quivers, snot already pooling from his nose, and his face is covered in blood that he'd been unable to wipe away. He sniffles and shakes his head. And he pointedly ignores the hand that helps steady him.

Hijikata licks chapped lips and stares at the man.

"Yoro-”

“Zura didn’ do it,” he's quick to interrupt Hijikata. The words tremble but only barely and his pupils aren't as wide anymore. He sends Tonari one last look, anger bubbling in his chest before the exhaustion pulls it away. "You should 'ave enough evidence by the time this bastard gets outta here." Hijikata's mouth grows dry at that and his jaw flops open, tongue moving but no words form. Lazily, Gintoki sweeps his gaze to him. "Gotta spare yukata?"

"Wait, why-"

"Zura's'pecific 'bout his targets." Gintoki answers whatever he assumed Hijikata would have asked. Which, eventually Hijikata would have gotten to _that_ question. But for now he's more concerned about the man who clearly plans on just... walking out? Leaving, as if this had never happened?

Would Hijikata let him?

"Does he tell you?" Gintoki doesn't speak for a moment. Instead, he twitches in the dampness of his outfit and attempts to wipe his face on his shoulder, smearing red and staining white. Hijikata grinds his teeth together as Gintoki's gaze drifts to him, a single brow raised, as if Hijikata should know the answer to that. "Are you - are you kidding me? You couldn't tell us that much? You just - you fucking, you-"

"And why the hell are you complaining, huh?" The first sentence he hadn't slurred, Hijikata notices. He also notices the dangerous gleam in the man's eyes. "What if I like goin' for the occasional swim?"

"I've seen you go for a 'casual' swim," Hijikata grounds out and his jaw tenses. He'd scream at the man but the rational part of him keeps that in check. Instead, he forces himself to take a calming breath and hisses between his teeth. "Two for two, they don't end well. You idiot. You _fucking,_ what - why-"

"The same reason you let 'im do it. We _both_ let that happen, you dumbass," he groans before turning around, broad shoulders low and stiff. "Take these cuffs off me."

Hijikata startles at the change and he's quick to pull out the key. He grabs the man's arm and ignores the groan, ignores all the little details he'd been picking up through the entire night. Blinded because the man isn't wrong but he isn't _right,_ none of this is _right_ -

And Hijikata freezes, one cuff off. Because finally he looks at the man's wrists. He hadn't done that before, and why would he? But with one cuff off, he sees a thin red line from where he thrashed against the sharp metal. It's on both arms. And underneath that new wound, there's a scar. It's thin and white and so perfectly matches the cuff that Hijikata can't help but stare.

It's an old scar, thin and pale and so obviously from cuffs like these. So obviously created from the same sort of thrashing and pulling and reluctance to break them.

Silently, he takes off the other one and carefully hides them from view. Gently, he moves Gintoki's arms down, sure that the man's more stiff than he'd like to admit. He obeys after a moment, head swaying as he spins back around, slow and careful.

“You could have told us,” Hijikata says but it's futile. What good would that have done for the higher ups other than prove that Gintoki knew the man? And, perhaps, it would have thrown the Shinsengumi under the bus too.

“He doesn’t tell me.” Gintoki sighs and tenderly rubs his wrists, careful of the cuts and he doesn't press so light as to darken forming bruises. In a subtle movement, he places a hand to his chest, pushing light enough that he thinks Hijikata wouldn't notice. “He _sometimes_ tells me in a dumb message if the area might be populated. I’m like his damage control, the bastard.”

“So it could have been-”

“It wasn’t Zura,” Gintoki bites immediately and Hijikata just looks at the male, half bent on choking him to death and ending that poor excuse of a samurai. The other half might drag him to the nearest bed and hide him until this whole mess is over. “And even if it was, why the hell would I tell some bakufu dog?”

Oh. _Oh_.

Sometimes he forgets that this greedy, poor excuse of an adult is so self-destructively selfless. Of _course_ he would never sell out a friend. Not to anyone. No matter what. Hijikata had come to an understanding that Gintoki didn’t know a lot about Katsura. That they just so happened to run into each other too often and especially when causing a ruckus. Which, that might be the case, but that isn't the _only_ way they interact. Of course Gintoki would know where the hideout is. Of _course_ he would know if Katsura were planning on bombing near the palace. _Of course_ he actually knows way more than he lets on.

 _And of course that bastard would never tell anyone_.

When Tonari groans, Hijikata doesn't think for a moment. He slams his foot onto that greasy ball of trash. It thumps into the hard, a dull _thud_ that helps calm Hijikata's nerves. He doesn't stop the smirk from tugging at his lips.

It's a shift and that's all Gintoki's ever needed.

“Your doggy masters shouldn’t whip you too badly now. _And_ the mighty Shiroyasha didn’t fall. I say it’s a win-win.” Hijikata wants to punch the dumb samurai but he just sighs in defeat. There’s no winning with the bastard, not without losing some dignity.

Although that might be the first (second, but the roof hardly counts) time he's called himself the Shiroyasha. And, again, it brings a hooded look to his eyes.

"You won't let me keep you here, will you," Hijikata sighs. Gintoki eyes him, half between bullshitting or otherwise.

"Here? I'd rather not," Gintoki says as his eyes sweep across the space. He'd come fully back to reality, words no longer slurred and he's acting a bit more like his normal self. But every now and then, his muscles still spasm and tense, not that one would notice if they only looked at the mans face. Although his face didn't look all too good either. The blue tint hadn't entirely faded, his lips gave that away. The dampness of the room probably wasn't helping. "Those kids will come barging in any second if I break my promise."

Hijikata stares at him for a moment. The response wasn't direct, but for Gintoki? Hijikata wasn't expecting any more than sarcasm and hidden threats.

 _I'll be back soon._ He had said that to those kids. By now, Kagura must be storming around the Kabuki district and no doubt Shinpachi's been stress cleaning. Hijikata's sure he could just call the kids and tell them everything was fine.

Except, everything isn't fine. And if it were, then why couldn't Gintoki home? That was a sure fire way to put them on alert. Worse case scenario, they come banging down the door and Tae may come as well, all smiles and pain.

But Hijikata knows he shouldn't let Gintoki leave.

And yet, as Gintoki refuses Hijikata's help and hobbles away, the Vice Chief doesn't stop him. He just keeps at Gintoki's slow pace. The man braces against the wall, pausing to catch his breath only once. But he seems to get better with each step, back slowly straightening and steps growing even. Hijikata doesn't believe it for a second, not when his breathes wheeze from his nose sharply, struggled but forced silent.

But as they exit the place, he fully straightens himself. Fresh hair brushes over them, cool and yet warm. The stars twinkle above and Gintoki can't seem to help but turn his face up.

Hijikata waits, not as mesmerized as the other man but all too happy to be out of that hell.

He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Gintoki. The man probably didn't even know how long he'd been in there, definitely wasn't sure how long it would keep going. And Hijikata knows the first time Gintoki had been held in such a way there was no plan for him to ever see the sky again.

Hijikata corrals him forward as he begins to sway, careful with touches that Gintoki himself hardly notices. The man just tries to steady himself and to all the world he'd simply be a drunk.

But Hijikata knows better. So he pushes at him, careful and light in both words and touches. As he does, he can't help but walk down different paths, running into the night watch and any member busy working late.

Not as many as Hijikata would have thought, which meant a few things. Not that he can tell, not until they reach a well lit room. Hijikata can't help but stop and turn his head in. Beside him, Gintoki keeps walking and almost stumbles into the doorway itself. While he was adamant to refuse help, he'd taken to keeping one hand trailing the wall.

Sougo and Kondo stare at them, eyes wide and smiles faltering. Kondo blinks and the candles, while illuminating his face, make the shadows sway, darkening his features. He slowly drops to a frown. Across from him, Sougo, surrounded by papers in a way Hijikata had never before seen, has his eyes trained on Gintoki. His expression remains carefully blank.

Hijikata's suddenly acutely aware that he hadn't given Gintoki different clothing, hadn't offered the man a blanket. Gintoki's still dripping. His lips are blue and his eyes blood shot with hair a silver ball of frizz and cold water.

He's surprised Gintoki hadn't sneeze then and there.

Yet none of them move. Kondo's mouth drops open but he doesn't say anything. Sougo stares, long and hard, but he doesn't move. And Hijikata? Hijikata just nudges Gintoki, drawing the man back into reality. He hardly spares the duo a glance, just shakes his permed head and continues walking, obedient and clearly dazed. After a hesitant moment, one Hijikata spends looking in the room, he follows.

Gintoki doesn't need any persuading so Hijikata leads him to the cars. He gets in the police cruiser with relative ease, although he throws himself in the back. He lays across the two seats as Hijikata turns on the radio. Hijikata makes a point to ignore how long it takes to settle, although he does turn on the heat and it washes over his skin in a discomfort. It hums low throughout the entire ride. Hijikata strikes up a conversation, careful to keep Gintoki talking.

He knows he shouldn't bring the man home. He knows he shouldn't. Gintoki should probably go to the hospital, he didn't seem well at all.

Except, he'd seen the man go through worse and he knows the man has. And for how exhausted Gintoki seemed, Hijikata still doubted he'd be able to control him. Only Tae could have managed that.

But Hijikata takes care to inform Gintoki that it had been less that 24-hours. But when Gintoki just grunts in response, Hijikata pulls out his phone. Angrily, he heads to his contacts (and carefully, he only does it at a red light,) and clicks on the one person he shouldn't have saved to his phone.

* * *

They see Snack Otose long before they're in front of the small shop. Light chatter drifts from it, melodious in the crisp night air. A comforting yellow light pools out into the street, luring any lost soul into its warm embrace. Like moths to a flame.

Or in Gintoki's case, a packless wolf. Not that Hijikata had ever been told the story of how Otose picked up the mutt.

Hijikata hears Gintoki rustle in the back and pries himself from the leather seats. He watches from the corner of his eye and he notices the moment Gintoki's dazed eyes cross over his home. The man stiffens at the sight and he blinks the haze from his eyes, startled. Perhaps by the openness of the bar, or maybe by the uncharacteristic darkness of his home.

And yet, he doesn't ask. Doesn't say a word, just stares, heart pounding in his ears and thrumming through his veins. His thoughts don't mesh well, a mix of fear and confusion.

"They went to the Shimura's," Hijikata answers and he's careful to not watch how the words visibly calm the man. Although he does purse his lips, cheek twitching. He'd rather not go there, there'd be no saving him from the wrath of that she-demon.

When the back door clicks open, Hijikata jolts and the car stutters to a halt. He gapes and undoes his buckle before throwing his own door open, quick to get out before Gintoki. Although, that isn't a difficult feat. He's out and gets to watch Gintoki struggle to a position to even get out of the car, dragging himself to the edge before throwing out heavy legs. Sluggishly, he forces himself to stand, bracing himself on shakey arms.

His red gaze sweeps onto the open bar but he doesn't take a step towards it. For the first time, Hijikata witnesses just how Gintoki manages to slink away. Him, someone whose entire entity screams at anyone nearby, white and vibrant, sinks into the shadows. None of the patrons spare him a single glance. He's quiet, sluggish in his movements but efficient. He walks hunched over and hobbles, hand reaching once before landing on the worn wood of his staircase.

Hijikata watches, careful, unsure if he should follow the man. But then his phone vibrates. He pulls it out, careful of the artificial white light and he only reads a few words before putting the phone away, previous worries draining into the ground.

But he still waits. He listens to the man's unsteady steps, hears the wood creaking above and how the man pauses, breaths wheezing past his lips before continuing on.

Once Gintoki makes it to the top, Hijikata's chest freezes and that old door slides open, rocking on its broken track before clicking shut.

He waits for a moment longer, fingers curling around his phone, aware that he had done all he could, more or less (more less than more, if he was being honest. But he knows there's another better suited for this task.) But he hears nothing from above. No heavy thuds or concerning groans. So, he heads into the bar, aware that there is _something_ he may be able to do.

The door's wide open but the second he steps in, the atmosphere chills. All eyes land on him, sharp and with a wave of concern that catches Hijikata off-guard.

He'd gotten used to entering bars and the populace growing cold. He was a police man, after all, a part of the infamous Shinsengumi. They'd been trying to get a better wrap but that had grown beyond them.

But this atmosphere was different. Far less hostile, more... tense, he could almost _smell_ the worry. And it wasn't about him.

In one clean sweep, he lands on Otose. She hadn't moved from behind the bar and she's staring. At him. Eyes narrowed and cigarette forgotten between blackened fingers, she beckons him in a fluid motion. He enters, steps slow but sturdy as he takes the stool directly across from the woman.

She doesn't say any sort of mindless greeting. She just eyes him before turning around and handing him a glass of water.

 _Water._ Hijikata doesn't gag but nausea pools in his gut. His throat constricts and saliva builds, threatening him, daring him to touch the cup. He pushes it away silently and doesn't spare it another glance. He hadn't expected the response to mean anything to Otose but when he looks back up, her face is tense, wrinkles prominent and mouth pulled down. Ash falls from her cigarette. She hardly spares it a glance. Instead, it's the hollowness to her eyes that tells Hijikata all he needs to know.

This was something she had seen before. And he had failed her charge, her _son._

"You owe him a parfait," she finally says. Her voice doesn't break but she does take the cup away. Hijikata lightly snorts at that, a sharp exhale of air from his nose. A laugh, or the best he can muster at the moment.

"We owe him more than that." He's not too proud to admit it. He'd skimmed texts from Kondo, texts that outlined how they had just barely gotten all their evidence together in defense of Katsura and anyone related. Barely, as in, when Tonari walked out the order had _just_ been sent concerning the issue and the true culprit.

Tonari had no say in the matter, and no medical attention either, or so Hijikata got the vague idea from Sougo's less obvious texts.

The thought should comfort him. But it doesn't, not when he had witnessed that eternity.

They don't say much more; they don't need to. Otose knows all she needs and Hijikata's given all he can. So, with a nod, he slinks from the bar and drags himself to the cruiser, unsure of how to face Kondo or Sougo.

In his own anxieties, he misses all the eyes boring into his back, the voices grow muffled to his ears and he doesn't quite catch the eruption of questions: _Is he okay? Is he home? Those kids seemed awfully worried - Gintoki's fine, right? Did he get arrested? It's Gintoki, he'll be fine - right? Right?_

Hijikata stands outside for a moment, eyes skimming texts from more numbers than he'd ever care to interact with. But he doesn't call anyone, doesn't respond either. Just reads them before sending one final look to the second floor.

* * *

The flat's empty and dark. Gintoki isn't sure he prefers it but exhaustion has crusted his eyes and his sore muscles scream. A tired hollowness had taken hold part way through the car ride and he hadn't the energy to care. He manages to kick off his boots, throwing them to the side as he heads into the family room. His clothes stick to his skin, no longer soaked but moist and cold, sticking to his skin and he'd rather tear it all off, both the clothes and his skin.

He peels them off, layer by layer. And he scratches the skin underneath, leaving bright red marks with dull nails. Light but burning, pulling him to reality in the best way he knows. The stained, gray yukata, the black top, he discards them all in too-harsh tugging and excessive scratching. But the discomfort doesn't leave, the cold and the chills and the _wet_ doesn't leave. The pants don't come off as easy and he has to work in slow movements, his entire body aching in protest. Slowly, he shimmies out of them and throws them to the side as well.

His knees are busted, a patch of dried blood on each, and the bruises have begun showing themselves. They're not all dark and angry but they still ache. Although Gintoki knows better than to think he'll look anything close to _well_ tomorrow. No, but he can manage.

He'd been through worse, after all.

So he trudges to the bathroom and pulls out the first aid. First, his face. He eyes the split chin. It had long dried a crusted brown but he'd still have to deal with it. It shouldn't need stitches, Tonari had been weak and fearful, so he just wipes at it with a moist towel, watching the white slowly stain red. He's careful to use as little water as possible.

He'd done this before, after all. And the last time he made the big mistake of using the shower. It had immediately thrown him into a spiral. He'd stuffed everything down, of course, but it left him a jittery mess that couldn't attend to his wounds with how badly he shook. He'd sat, naked and small in his shower until the water ran cold and sprayed his back in icicles. That managed to pull him back to reality, but by then his lips were blue and sickness had begun creeping in.

This time, he has those kids. And while they'll no doubt complain on the stench he'll have tomorrow, he'd rather that than them worry about the injuries.

So he works slowly, careful as he freshens up his face and patches himself up. And if he scratches taught numb skin, leaving red welts in its wake, then that's a simple price to pay. He stays present and it chases away the demons _enough._ Keeps him awake _enough._

By the end of it, he can hardly keep his eyes open. They sag against his will and his joints pull him to the ground, begging him to just _stop._ And he obeys, hardly fights it once he's patched up enough. A fog had taken over his mind, preventing him from really thinking or feeling or, really, much of anything outside of the aches and pains. It had been prodding at him for hours and now that he could give him, he almost didn't want to come back to this plane of existence (but he knows he will. For those kids, for that old hag, for, well, everyone.)

He would have passed out as his head hit the pillow. In fact, he might have, it's hard to tell. But it's still dark when the knock comes at his door.

The knocking doesn't go on for long but the exhaustion keeps Gintoki under the covers, stuck and heavy and his head's far from reality.

The door slides open and finally his eyes do as well. They flutter open, heavy and he can feel the bags under them pulling him back into slumber. The light footsteps make Gintoki shift. He rolls onto his belly and ignores how it presses against the bruises. Old habits die hard, and for the exhaustion that has dragged itself through his nerves, he still forces himself to _move._

"It's me," the person's quick to say. Gintoki groans, perhaps at the voice, maybe at being awoken in general. He's too exhausted to care at this point. Instead, he rolls himself onto his back once more and lets his head sink into the pillow.

When the door to his room opens, he cracks open an eye. And even then, he only opens it wide enough to catch a thin and dark form with familiar long hair.

"'Ra," he moans into his pillow.

"It's not Zura, it's Katsura," he responds but there's no heat. The words are soft and he plops down beside Gintoki, graceful as always. "You look like shit." Gintoki only huffs in response, too tired to even laugh. He can hardly process anything Katsura does, the words grow muffled and his mind refuses to really process anything. So he misses how Katsura eyes him over, carefully checking for injuries in his motherly way.

He, of course, finds them.

But he doesn't say anything, not for a moment. Words trickle from his lips but neither really pay attention to whatever his mind has conjured. Probably something about an idiot son going off on their own, ending with a story of how his true love had been his ever-faithful dog, a dog who had passed thanks to a life long lived and well spent.

A true tear-jerker, Gintoki's sure. If only he'd heard more than random blurbs of insanity.

Surprisingly, Katsura doesn't force Gintoki to sit up. Doesn't make the man shift so he can check the wounds. Seems he had deemed Gintoki's first aid acceptable for now.

But, in his muffled voice, Gintoki catches a shift in tone. Serious, dark, a mixture of worry and regret. So Gintoki shifts and pulls half of his face from the pillow and he peers at Katsura from a bleary eye.

"It was the leftovers from that group I helped the Shinsengumi take down. We thought he had gotten them all," he admits lowly, arms crossed in his kimono but his fingers pinch the fabric. Gintoki groans in response, a huff muffled by his pillow and low in exhaustion. He blinks, slow and half aware of the man's words. "Of course, finding them was not difficult. But I was hoping it would not be too late." There's a question in there. Gintoki catches the odd lift. It isn't a full question, Katsura knows the answer to it, but there's a hopefulness. Not that Gintoki could possibly confirm or deny in his current state of deliriousness.

"'Ra," he exhales, and in that release of breath he sinks further into the futon, eye staying shut for a longer period of time. The room grows darker and Katsura's words more muffled.

"You never told us what happened, after the war," Katsura says. He's more than aware of how little Gintoki's actually listening to him. How the man's delirious and his body's too exhausted for anything other than rest. Still, he talks, if only to affirm the man's presence and his own. Gintoki would rest better that way, not that he'd ever admit to it.

It had always been Takasugi's job to understand such a thing. It was Takasugi he got along with so well, the two were inseparable and practically lived in the other's mind - they were so similar.

But then suddenly they didn't have each other. None of them did.

And then suddenly the two of them were back together and forever without a third. The dynamic was new and different and Katsura could always tell that something was off. Whether it was due to more than what had happened at that cliff, he had never been certain.

Then the day at the beach had happened. And while Katsura wasn't Takasugi they're still family. He'd quickly understood that the only other person had in their time apart was Otose. And when had they met? How long had he wandered, lost and alone? But she seemed to understand him. She could push him, stern yet gentle, like the mother Katsura knows he never had. And he'd also that Shinsengumi officer. Katsura had been skeptical at first, but Hijikata erased all doubts by contacting him as he'd brought Gintoki here. Clearly he cared. He'd been worried and lost and contacted him, of all people. Why him the Demon of the Shinsengumi get along had always been beyond Katsura but it's obvious now: the man's too similar to Takasugi, but in the good ways.

Hijikata's text had been vague but it's obvious what happened. And he knows that this had happened to Gintoki before. But while he'd apologized for it, looking at Gintoki now, so hollow and broken, images can't help but flash in front of Katsura's eyes. They morph in the darkness, something grotesque and silent, yet they still manage to thunder in his ears. He'd never ask Gintoki for details. But perhaps that was worse, leaving a veteran to their own imagination. Thinking and dreaming. Living in a nightmare he himself had never experienced.

How could he possibly apologize for it? For any of it?

And here he is. Once more, sitting at this man's side as he drifts in and out of reality. Beaten down once more only for him to rise in the morning, more like a phoenix than some all-encompassing warrior.

Because Gintoki wasn't immortal, wasn't so death-defyingly capable. He died. He died each and every battle, he killed and he bled and every night his heart and soul shattered into a million pieces.

Only, he was so good at picking himself back up and putting himself together that no one had noticed.

He could admit that back in the war he'd been too focused on the big picture to always notice himself. But that was Takasugi's job, it was him who would pull Gintoki from his funk. And sure, he didn't always do it in the healthiest of ways but Gintoki never cared. After all, Gintoki was the most messed up of all of them.

(They'd heard stories, but, like always, were left mostly to their imagination. Aware only of the fact that Gintoki had killed long before they'd joined the war. Long before they'd met him and sensei.)

But now? Now _Katsura_ had to do this. And sometimes he'd still miss it when Gintoki would need him, but hearing that Gintoki had been brought in and released so many hours later? That was disconcerting. That was something he had to deal with and he had to deal with it now.

"I'm safe to tell things to," he whispers and Gintoki shifts, a grumble muffled in his throat. In rumbles in his chest, buried in his pillow and he huffs. Clearly awake but only half listening. But he does roll and his eye stays open for a moment, pupil unfocused but it lands on Katsura's form.

_“Kintoki - aha - I’m actually going! If I find a nice planet, I’ll take you there, haha! But I don’t think anything will beat Earth, you cast your net on a good planet, haha!”_

_“Gintoki, I’m going to Edo. The outskirts. I don’t think they’ll look for me there. So if you need me, I shouldn’t be too hard for you to find.”_

_“Hey, bastard. I’m going back. I just…. I’m going_ **_home_** _. And if you follow me, I’ll kill you.”_

Gintoki doesn't say anything, not at first. But words echo in his mind, thundering in his ears and pulling him to something between then and now, a reality close enough for his eye to finally focus. He's slow and rolls himself onto his back, grunting and mumbling all the while. Katsura helps him, a light nudge but not much else. Gintoki blinks unevenly, eyelids heavy as he tries to stay in the real world and ignore the bags under his eyes, so heavy and prominent and tempting.

Slowly, once his gaze fixes on the ceiling, it drifts to his old friend. His head rolls to the side, and, as he turns, one eye stays open a bit more than the other. His brows pull down but only slightly, eyes scrunching at the edges and he blinks a few times before opening his mouth.

"Woulda been easier." He clears his throat, a low sound that reverberates in the empty room. "If ya didn' tell me your plans."

Katsura just stares for a moment. He blinks as old words resurface. He hadn't thought for a second on them. It made sense to tell Gintoki, and why wouldn't he? It was Gintoki. Katsura wanted him to know where he was, just in case. If anyone could be trusted, and if anyone needed to know, it would be him.

But he did know that Gintoki was the first person Sakamoto told about going to space. He knew Takasugi had said something or another.

It made sense.

The cogs click and Katsura can't look away, not even when a hollowness takes over his chest and the blood rushes from his face. He bites his inner lip as he watches Gintoki fight the fog of his mind.

His hand trembles as he reaches for Gintoki's, fingers brushing too pale skin. But he doesn't grab that clammy hand, doesn't squeeze until his hand trembles and Gintoki can feel it in the depths of wherever he's hiding. Katsura just drifts alongside him, words having failed him as they often do with the permed man.

"We knew you'd be safe to tell," he whispers and the shadows wax and wane, reaching their darkness into vulnerable minds. Katsura flicks a dark gaze to them, tired but not so much as to be unaware of the threat.

The emptiness of Gintoki's room doesn't help. He's almost surprised by it but someone like Gintoki would relish in that sort of deserved hollowness.

Not that that helps.

So Katsura shifts a bit closer to the man. And he stays awake, babbling and glaring at any demons that may prey on his mind and heart.

"I'm safe to tell things to, too," he says again, and he'll say it as many times as he needs to. Because he knows the weight is too heavy for Gintoki to carry it by himself and he's already done so. He's carried it for years without complaint.

He became their safe haven, their holder of secrets and truths and burdens too heavy for one person. And yet in the process, he'd acted so aloof and careless that you'd forget just how many people relied on him. You'd forget just how many promises he's made to both himself and those around him. Promises too heavy for him to bear, promises he knew he shouldn't make _(you'll live, I'll get you out of here, I'll save sensei,)_ promises that he broke more often than not. And not because of weakness - Gintoki was anything but weak - but from it simply being too much for one man.

A safe haven, fruitful but with corners too dark for anyone but its keeper to truly understand. And too calming and trusting for anyone to ever believe there could be demons hidden beneath the foliage.

But as Katsura stares at him as he drifts into a deep and exhausted sleep, Katsura makes a promise of his own. To stay wary of those dark corners and to keep those broad shoulders from buckling under the weight of the world. A hopeless task but one Katsura swears he'll hold true to for as long as he can.

**Author's Note:**

> This changed. A lot. Wasn't going to have a depressed Gintoki but when the idea came I couldn't not include it. Damn, this got longer than I planned.


End file.
